In a previous post, I mentioned my much-loved trip to San Fran. My life-long friend Jennie was going for a conference, and she invited me to go along. I had recently been let go from my job of 20 years, and I was not in a good place mentally. With my parents' blessing (because I am in my 50s, and still need my parents' approval -- because I was raised right), I bought a ticket and planned my itinerary while Jennie would be busy during the days.
What a trip! I felt a sense of freedom in that city that I have never before experienced. The weather was unbelievably gorgeous, the people were so very kind, I had no schedule, no demands, and no limitations.
I saw the Rube Goldberg exhibit at the Contemporary Jewish Museum, and the Rene Magritte exhibit at SFMoMA. From a vantage point at Alamo Square, I photographed the Painted Ladies of San Francisco. From the top of Coit Tower, I saw beautiful views of the city. I took a boat tour of San Francisco Bay, seeing the famous Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz Island. I walked the sidewalk on the crookedest street in the world, Lombard Street. I ate poke for the first time. I walked the floors in a famous bookstore that decades before saw the soles of a generation of rebellious authors, musicians, and poets.
And, I photographed these two good looking men in Little Italy, who were having a healthy conversation in what I assumed to be Italian. I took their picture in passing, and I think they loved it. If I had to do it over, I would give each one a big kiss from this strange tourist from the Deep South.
And I think they still would have loved it.
When Tony Bennett says he left his heart in San Francisco, I know exactly what he means.
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